Children's

Midnight Encounter

Jezzie was snoozing by the gas fire, her body stretched out and her stomach pointing towards the heat. Cate was sitting in an armchair, wearing a black dress and a black wig, plaiting Emma’s hair into pigtails.

‘Will you keep still?’ said Cate.

‘I am keeping still,’ said Emma.Chris came in and walked past Jezzie. Her right ear flicked with annoyance. One of the kittens joined her on the rug and touched her tail with its nose. She twitched again, not bothering to open her eyes.

‘Where are you going?’ said Cate.‘Just outside,’ said Chris. He’d draped a black curtain round his shoulders, and had some kind of plastic mask on his head, ready to be pulled down over his face.

‘Right, fantastic,’ said Cate. ‘There, done. Go and look in the mirror, Em.’

Emma went into the hallway. A moment later she came back, and said to Chris, ‘Do you think I look like Wednesday?’

‘I thought you were Wednesday,’ said Chris.

‘Sarcastic.’ Emma looked at Cate. ‘Are you sure about being Morticia? You’re not my mum.’

‘Not officially,’ said Cate. ‘Oh my God.’Leonie had just walked into the room, a short-skirted red devil in a tight top.

‘How do I look?’ she said.

‘You’re turning into Mum,’ said Cate. ‘Em, go and get your… sweet-collecting… thing. I never did like trick-or-treating much.’ She looked at Chris. ‘What’s this about you going outside? When are you going to take her?’

‘Ready, darling!’ Fran, their mother, called. As her piercing tones cut through the air, Jezzie snapped her eyes open and raised her head. The kitten by her tail took this as a sign that she was awake, and trotted closer to her head. It was Jet. Jezzie cuffed his ear, and then started to wash him violently.

‘Are you going trick-or-treating with the girls, darling?’ Fran asked, as she came into the room and caught sight of Chris. He looked at the floor. Her Halloween costume was even more embarrassing then Leonie’s.

‘Yes,’ he said.‘I’m ready,’ said Emma, as she came in clutching her plastic pumpkin basket.

‘Darling, come and give Mummy a kiss,’ said Fran, crouching down and offering Emma her cheek.

‘You’re not,’ Cate said to Chris, keeping her voice low. ‘Are you?’

Jezzie gave up on trying to continue her snooze. She cuffed Jet again, then looked around and saw that Blanche and Tab were scratching each other behind the sofa. Jezzie trotted over to them, pulled Tab out into the open by the scruff of her neck, and hit her between the eyes. Blanche retreated further behind the sofa. Jezzie ignored her. Pitch was on the windowsill, gazing out into the descending darkness. Jezzie looked at her a moment, and then decided that she did not need to be interfered with.

‘Bye, twins!’ said Fran, waving at Chris and Cate, evidently feeling that they were too old for kisses. ‘We’ll be back late, I expect. I’ve put some fish fingers out to defrost. Don’t let Emma spoil her appetite.’

Fran and Leonie made for the front door, and as Fran pulled it open, Pitch leapt from the windowsill and made a bolt for it. But she was just too late. The door shut, and she slammed into it headfirst. She was dazed for a moment, and then when she had recovered, she turned to see Jezzie standing over her. She, too, got a cuff on the ear.

‘She’s desperate to escape,’ said Chris.

‘Why are you dressed up?’ asked Cate. ‘Why did you tell Mum you were coming with us?’

‘Cate, I’m ready!’ said Emma.‘Feed the cats first, Emma,’ said Cate. ‘I don’t think Chris is going to be here.’

‘If you must know,’ said Chris, ‘I’m going to root around inside people’s bonfires and move any hedgehogs I find. Okay?’

Cate didn’t answer for a moment or two. It was certainly unexpected. People had set up their bonfires for Guy Fawkes Night, which was in five days’ time, and certainly they were a terrible hazard to hedgehogs looking for a warm, hidden place to spend the winter. But Cate never would have guessed that her brother would go looking for them.

‘I never knew you cared,’ she said.

Chris shrugged. ‘I do it every year. Just not usually in a costume. But last time I was spotted, because I was the only person out there not in a costume, so…’ He finished with a shrug.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ asked Cate.

He shrugged again. ‘Do you tell me everything?’

Cate was used to sharing things with Chris, and they had certainly told each other everything when they were younger. She didn’t tell him everything anymore, it was true, but she would have told him about something like rescuing hedgehogs.

With a small sigh of resignation, Cate led Emma out of the front door. One of the cats streaked out just ahead of them, and by its size and tortoiseshell fur, Chris knew that it was Jezzie. He let out a long, despairing sigh. Whenever Jezzie got out, she always came back again, and she was usually pregnant. Chris, Cate and Leonie all agreed that she should be neutered, but Emma hated the idea, and Fran never seemed to get around to making the arrangements.

Jet came mewing out into the hallway after his mother, looking around with sad, frightened eyes. Chris went over to the little black kitten, picked him up and said, ‘You soppy thing, you. I don’t know why you care so much. She’s horrible to you.’

He carried Jet back into the kitchen, and placed him gently on the floor with Tab and Blanche. Pitch was nowhere to be seen. She had probably gone behind the fridge or the washing machine. She was so unlike Jet in her ways, even though they surely had the same father; they had to be the kittens of whichever black tom Jezzie had met that night. Tab and Blanche, on the other hand, surely were not. At least, Chris thought, he and Cate could be sure of having the same father. Fran was not quite so bad as Jezzie, who held no qualms about being impregnated by two or three males in one night.

‘She’ll be getting pregnant again about now,’ he said, stroking Jet as he stooped to pick up the empty cat bowls. ‘We’ll have to find homes for the girls, but you don’t want to leave us, do you? Maybe Mum will let me keep you.’

Chris did not really believe that Jet would be allowed to stay when and if Jezzie had another litter, but he liked to think that there was a chance. He didn’t think he could bear to see the doting and pathetic little Jet - the only other male in the house - go to a new home.

But that was a worry for another day. Chris finished loading the bowls into the dishwasher, turned off the gas fire in the living room, and pulled his vampire mask down over his face.

All of the back gardens in the road were accessible via passages that ran alongside the houses; each passage led into two, or sometimes three gardens. Chris was glad of this. If he’d had to climb over fences in order to get at people’s bonfires, he might not have done it. The hedgehogs would just have had to burn.

He started at the far end of the road. There were houses on one side only, many of them being approached by children in costume, and a few of them with music blaring and lights flashing inside. Fran and Leonie were in one of those, no doubt making spectacles of themselves. Chris tried not to think about them as he walked down the grassy verge opposite the houses.

There was nothing of interest in garden number one, but a small bonfire had been built in the garden of number two. Taking a deep breath, Chris pulled his black curtain tightly around his body, and wondered why he had been stupid enough to wear a bright white mask. He turned his face away from the house, and made for the unlit bonfire.

For Chris, actually looking for the hedgehogs was the most nerve-wracking part of the operation. He had to keep his back to the house, and use his body to obscure what little light came from his small torch. When he found a hedgehog, he picked it up in his cape/curtain and carried it to the warmest place he could see. Most of the gardens had a hedge or a bush that would do for hibernating hedgehogs.

Chris was depositing a hedgehog under one such bush, at number twelve, when someone close behind him said, ‘What on earth are you doing?’

He leapt to his feet and whipped round, heart pounding. He knew really that it wouldn’t be so bad if he was caught. All of his neighbours knew him, and even if they didn’t like his explanation for rooting around in their bonfires, there wasn’t much they could do to punish him for it. He didn’t need to worry about them telling his mother - she wouldn’t do anything. But still, the thought of having to explain his actions to someone like Mr Creighton had always worried him.

It was a young voice which had spoken. A girl dressed as a witch, Chris saw; she had a long black dress, a pointed hat and an authentic broomstick. He peered at her face through the darkness, but there was nothing about her that he recognised.

‘I’m moving hedgehogs,’ he said. ‘What are you doing? This isn’t your garden.’‘Why are you moving hedgehogs?’

‘They’re hibernating in people’s bonfires.’

‘Bonfires!’ said the girl, clearly moved by this. ‘You mean those poor hedgehogs would have been burnt alive if it wasn’t for you?’

‘I don’t know if they’d know much about it,’ said Chris. ‘I’ve heard it’s pretty much impossible to wake a hibernating animal.’

‘But being burnt alive…’

‘Yeah, maybe.’

‘What’s your name?’ the girl asked.

‘You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.’

‘I’m looking for my cat. Well, he’s my mother’s cat, actually. A big black tom. Huge. Quite vicious. He’d spit at you if you went near him. Have you seen him?’

‘No,’ said Chris. ‘Sorry.’‘So what’s your name?’

‘Chris.’

‘I know he’s here somewhere,’ the girl went on. ‘Tell you what, let’s go together. I’ll help you look for hedgehogs in the bonfires, and you can tell me if you see my cat.’‘Have you tried calling him?’ said Chris, following her as she began making her way towards the passage, and ultimately back out onto the street. ‘What’s his name?’

Chris didn’t say anything. He was surprised. This girl was no older than he was, and surely no one was called Peggy anymore.

‘He’s this big,’ Peggy said chattily, holding her hands a good two feet apart. ‘And I told you he’s vicious. That’s why it’s so important that I find him. Nice costume, by the way.’ She giggled. ‘You’ve obviously put a lot of effort into that.’

‘Well yours is hardly the most original,’ said Chris.‘This is my Sunday best,’ said Peggy. Then she laughed again. ‘It’s full tonight, isn’t it? Outside, I mean. There’s a lot of people.’

Chris nodded. ‘That’s just Halloween. It’s why I’m doing this now. Most people are out, and even if they’re in, they’re not paying much attention to their back gardens.’

They turned and went up the passage that led to the gardens of numbers fourteen and fifteen. Chris knew that number fifteen would have a bonfire. They always did, as there were five children living there.

‘I suppose you know that witches used to be burned alive,’ said Peggy.

‘I suppose I do,’ said Chris. ‘Keep your voice down, okay?’

He approached number fifteen’s bonfire, and started searching with the usual care. Peggy, however, made no effort to keep low to the ground and started flinging bits of the bonfire in all directions.

‘It’ll be all right. I usually get away with things. Ssh!’ Peggy paused, and held up one finger. Then, in a whisper, she asked, ‘Did you hear that?’

‘What?’‘Mewing. I think it’s Midnight.’

Peggy turned and headed back towards the passage. Chris thought about staying with the bonfire, but then decided to follow her, as he did not want to get caught there alone thanks to her behaviour.

‘There he is,’ said Peggy, nudging Chris with her elbow then pointing at a bush growing in the alley, a proud grin on her face. ‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’

Chris didn’t see the big black tom at first. Much more prominent in the darkness were the patches of white on the smaller cat, who was rolling around on the ground under the scrutiny of a pair of intense green eyes.

‘Oh my God, Jezzie,’ said Chris, feeling his cheeks flush, trying to remind himself that she was his cat and not his mother. There was no real need to be embarrassed.

‘Oh, is she yours?’ said Peggy. ‘Why Jezzie? Is it short for something?’

‘Yes,’ said Chris, blushing even more. ‘Mum just used to call her Puss, but my sister and I always thought that was stupid, and then about the third time she got pregnant we decided to call her Jezebel.’

Peggy laughed. ‘Jezebel! I like that.’

‘Most people tell us we should get her spayed.’

‘Do they? How rude of them. It’s nothing to do with most people. Anyway, you shouldn’t. I think it’s an atrocious thing to do to such a wonderful animal.’

‘That’s all very well for you,’ said Chris, ‘having a tom. You’re not the one who has to deal with the kittens. Do you think you could stop him, please? We’ve still got the litter from last Christmas.’

‘Oh, touchy,’ said Peggy. ‘I can try, I suppose, but there’s nothing to stop her going to some other tom.’

‘I’m taking her home,’ said Chris. ‘As soon as you get that great brute off her.’

Peggy let out a sigh. ‘Fine. Midnight, come here. There’s a good Midnight.’

Midnight looked up from sniffing Jezzie’s hindquarters, and hissed.

‘Come on, Midnight,’ said Peggy. ‘Leave her alone. She’s tarty.’

‘Oi!’ said Chris.

‘It was you who called her Jezebel,’ said Peggy.

Midnight glared at Peggy and Chris for several seconds, and during this time, Chris felt afraid to move. Then suddenly Midnight stood up straight, and started walking down the passage towards the road. Jezzie sat up and let out a long, indignant mew.

‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Chris, scooping the angry cat into his arms as she made to follow Midnight. Then he looked at Peggy. ‘Aren’t you going after him?’

‘I suppose I’d better,’ said Peggy.

She went after the enormous tom, and Chris followed her. When they got to the pavement and were once again among the trick-or-treaters, he couldn’t see Midnight, but Peggy seemed to know where to go. Chris followed her to a group of youths who were bothering Mrs Cotton, the elderly lady in number eighteen.

‘We’d better get some help for her,’ said Chris.

‘No need,’ said Peggy, smiling and nodding towards the gathering. When Chris looked again, he saw that the youths were backing away from the house, and when at last they sloped off he saw Midnight sitting in the middle of the lawn, stock still and staring.

‘Peggy,’ he said. ‘Your cat’s scary.’

‘I wish he were mine,’ said Peggy. ‘Listen, you put Jezebel back in your house, and then we’ll go on looking for hedgehogs.’

This sounded like a good idea. Chris carried Jezzie up the driveway, dropped her in at the front door and then went back to Peggy. Midnight was with her now, sitting at her feet and staring at Chris’s house.

‘Come on then,’ said Peggy.

‘What about Midnight?’ said Chris.

‘It’s all right, he’ll wait for me.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I know. Come on, Chris, let’s rescue some hedgehogs!’

Cate and Emma got back first, shortly after seven o’clock. They found Jezzie snoozing underneath a radiator, with Tab and Blanche curled up together a few feet away. Emma sat down in the middle of the living room floor and tipped her sweets all over the place.

‘What’s happened to Jet?’ said Cate. ‘He doesn’t normally go off on his own.’

‘He’s probably with Pitch,’ said Emma.

Cate said no more, but went to draw the curtains. When she reached the window, however, she hesitated a moment. She had caught sight of two shining green eyes out on their front lawn. In a moment, she saw that these belonged to the most enormous black cat, and with it was a smaller black cat. It was Jet or Pitch, she was sure, but at that distance and in that light she couldn’t tell which. Still, she thought, it had to be Pitch. She was chasing the larger cat’s tail, while he sat like a statue and stared at the house. Jet wouldn’t have dared. Cate was wondering whether to go and fetch the little cat in when she saw Chris walking up the driveway with a girl.

‘Pitch!’ he said, walking over to the two cats. Cate could just about hear through the closed window, and watched as the large black cat turned and hissed at him.

‘Is it one of Jezebel’s?’ the girl asked.

‘Yes,’ said Chris.

‘Midnight obviously likes it. Pitch, did you call it? Is it a male or a female?’

‘Female.’ Chris stooped down, squinting through the darkness at the kitten. ‘At least, I think it’s Pitch. She and Jet look alike, but it wouldn’t be him.’

‘She’s beautiful,’ the girl said, smiling wistfully at the two cats. ‘I suppose you want me to try and prise her away from Midnight.’

‘Well…’ Chris began. Then he saw Cate watching from the window, and shot her an enquiring look. She wavered only for a second, and then nodded to Chris, so he went on, ‘You could take her if you like. We were thinking of re-homing them anyway.’

‘Really?’ the girl said, her face lighting up, and then Cate closed the curtains on the scene. Before she did so, she just caught sight of Leonie, and a few moments later the front door opened.

‘We thought you’d be really late,’ said Emma, her mouth full of chocolate. ‘Like Mum when she goes out.’

The front door opened again, and Chris came in, saying, ‘Jezzie got out tonight.’

Leonie collapsed into an armchair. ‘Oh, brilliant. Is she pregnant now? If she is, I’m getting her done the minute the kittens are out. And if not, I’m getting her done next week.’

‘Really?’ asked Cate.

Emma looked up in alarm. ‘No more kittens?’

‘There have been more than enough kittens,’ said Leonie.

‘Do you think we could keep Jet?’ asked Chris.

Leonie shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not.’

‘If you can find him,’ said Cate.

Chris’s eyes widened. ‘What?’ He shot out of the room and went through to the kitchen, calling, ‘Jet! Here, puss! Puss puss puss!’

Cate put her head out of the door, into the hallway, as Chris headed for the stairs. ‘It wasn’t Jet you gave to that girl, was it? And Pitch is behind the fridge or something?’

‘God, I hope not,’ said Chris, hurrying up the stairs. ‘Jet! Where are you, puss?’

‘Hey!’ Cate went over to the bottom of the stairs, and called up after him. ‘Who was she?’

‘Her name’s Peggy!’ Chris called back. ‘I’ve never seen her before! Jet?’

For a minute or more, Chris feared that he really had given Jet away. But then he found him cowering underneath Emma’s bed, his eyes wide with fright.

‘Jet, there you are!’ said Chris, pulling the kitten out and cradling him in his arms. ‘What on earth has happened to you? You’re scratched!’ With a curled forefinger, he tipped Jet’s chin to look at the raw crimson line that ran from his throat to his shoulder. ‘Was it that great brute of a Midnight? Well…’ He sighed heavily and, hugging Jet close to his chest said, ‘I was about to ask how he got in, but… well, how did Pitch get out?’

Jet answered with a small mew, and pushed his head against Chris’s neck.